I walked. People walked. The world stood. I looked at the horizon and saw a glow. It seemed warm. I wanted that warmth inside me. So I ran. Now people ran too. Everything ran: the buildings around me, the cars, the buses, the animals. I loved the run, but I loved the horizon more. So I ran harder. And everything ran harder. But although the run was fun, I knew I wouldn’t reach the horizon by running. Or walking. That’s when I flew.
This is an exaggeration of my imagination when I woke up from my sleep but half-dreamt and tried to sleep again thinking of the function and importance of literature and art in my life.
I relate walking to normal communication and conversations. They let us get essentials like food, drink and shelter in the world. It’s when we desire beyond food, drink and shelter that we have to run.
I relate running to the practice of learning and teaching. Science and philosophy. This lets us understand the world and share our knowledge of it. This lets us change ourselves and the world.
We cannot run without first walking.
The horizon has a glow and warmth to it. It is beyond necessities and understanding. It is life itself. It has light, it has beauty, it has color, it has warmth. It has danger, misery, pain, agony. It is life. Art touches it. But to reach there, we should be able to fly. But to do that, we have to first walk and run. We cannot touch life without sustaining life and understanding a few things about the world.
To fly is to go beyond normal human functions and necessities. It’s not natural. It’s not even necessary. It’s not something we can look around and imitate. Art isn’t necessary. Normal communication and knowledge are crucial.
This has been my story so far. I saw something and followed it. I walked because I had to. I ran not to run but to touch the horizon. And now I am learning to fly. I feel whatever Pink Floyd tried to sing in this song:
A soul in tension that’s learning to fly…
There’s no sensation to compare with this
Suspended animation, a state of bliss